JJ Says: I seldom played catch with my father

<p>I seldom played catch with my father. It isn’t that he didn’t try.</p><!-- Nothing to do. The paragraph has already been output --><p>The truth is that my father never knew too much about sports. Growing up on a farm in west Texas during the depression didn’t leave much time for baseball, football and the like.</p><p>Then there is the problem with his eyes. I’m still not sure what caused his eye problem, but he has been legally blind in one eye since he was a youngster. The solution at the time, and one that continued until he had laser surgery when he was in his 70s. was what we refer to as “Coke-bottle” glasses with lenses so thick they resemble the bottom of an old-fashioned soft drink bottle.</p><p>His glasses threw off his depth perception. Like he did with everything else, my father learned to adjust. A sheet-metal worker, he could measure a sheet of metal within a micro-inch, but he had trouble gauging the flight of a ball. Still, realizing I loved sports, he tried. I learned early to lob the ball to Dad.</p><p>He really didn’t much care for sports, but he tried to take an interest because of me and, later, my more athletic brother.</p><p>The thing that few people know about my father is that he never learned to read or write much beyond his name. His eye problems forced him to drop out of school in the second grade. Doctors at the time told his mother that if he continued to strain his good eye in school, he might someday go totally blind. </p><p>Can you imagine how difficult life is without the ability to read? With help from his wife and, later, his four kids, but mostly using his intelligence and ingenuity, Dad worked for more than 40 years, put two sons through college and two daughters through high school and into successful marriages.</p><p>Working with Mom (you can’t talk about one without the other), he bought, paid for and mostly built a home (meaning much more than a house) for him and his family that has withstood wind, rain and economic storms for more than 50 years.</p><p>He began driving a car, serving as chauffeur for his own mother and father, at about 12 years of age. He finally voluntarily gave up his driver’s license at age 82. In 70 years of road changes, rules changes and every-increasing traffic, he never received one ticket for a moving violation — a couple of warnings, but never a citation.</p><p>A smoker from a pre-teen age and a beer drinker, he was in his mid-40s when he joined a neighborhood church. Believing that a Christian shouldn’t drink or smoke, he quit both.</p><p>Just like that. After smoking for more than 30 years and drinking beer for more than 20, he quit — no patches, no nicotine-flavored gum, no psychotherapy.</p><p>My father and mother have shared a life together for 62-plus years. Twelve years ago, we had a major party for their 50th wedding anniversary. Over the next decade have come more great-grandchildren, some scary illnesses by my mother, more camping trips, more happy holidays and more family fun.</p><p>No, I never played much catch with my father, but we did do a lot of fishing, camping and laughing.</p><p>On Monday, the day after Father’s Day, we placed my father in a medical facility with a secure unit for Alzheimer’s patients.</p><p>I pray that he is happy in his world.</p><p>(Contact John Jackson at acsports@arguscourier.com)</p>